


dig up the bones

by Tat_Tat



Series: Steven Universe Fics in 2015 [3]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Bugs & Insects, Complete, F/F, Trauma, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Far from home, Peridot wakes up in the middle of a frigid forest in the company of a wolf and her handler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be multi-chaptered. As of right now I’m working on chapter four. This is my Halloween project, this chapter is pretty SFW but the chapters afterward will not be.  
> This story delves into some tender issues. It is a horror story, and Peridot will (literally) have some skeletons to dig up and contend with. 
> 
> What to expect from this story: blood and gore, insects, mother/daughter relationship(Yellow Diamond and Peridot are not related but the dynamic itself is there), hypnosis. The sexual relationship is consensual. 
> 
> Pairings will be Peridot/Yellow Diamond (called “Jaune”) and Lapis/Jasper.
> 
> 10.1.2017: A podfic version is available!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12240480

_hhhhhhh…_

The wind was a cold promise, It hissed in Peridot’s ears, a sharp shrill whisper. White noise slowly woke her, shivering, facing heavenward, the sun bright in her eyes but offering no warmth. Something cold and wet pressed against her cheeks. Hot breath pelted her face. The smell roused her, blinking back against the slivers of blinding sunlight.

She squinted, met with golden yellow eyes staring straight at her. She felt an edge of familiarity but it was lost quickly. The eyes on her were feral and Peridot found it best to avert her gaze, feeling a growl rumble from the form atop her. The growl subsided when Peridot looked away. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, fully waking her.

She made a cautious glance back at the presence next to her, careful not to make direct eye contact. It was a large wolf, larger than any she had seen. Its coloring was strange also: sharp reddish orange with flecks of grey and white. The bulk of the creature and its coloring made it stick out in the snowy plain. Stranger was the ragged fur coat it was wearing, made out of rabbit pelts. It was as if someone had attempted to dress it up as a human. It was not human, but its eyes regarded Peridot as if it was. Peridot didn’t think too hard about this, used to her hunting dogs watching her with the same expectant look. She was more concerned for her safety. The air was frigid, but her blood danced in her veins and warmed her. She started to back away slowly. The wolf followed and Peridot resisted her instinct to run.

The wolf stopped, sensing her apprehension. Then it did the unexpected and laid down, pressing its face against her hand hanging in the air. Its wet nose pressed against her palm, urging her to pet it. Hesitant, disbelieving, Peridot ran two fingers down the beast’s snout, amazed that it softened under her touch.

As her hands dug into tufts of red-orange fur, Peridot contemplated her situation and how she had gotten here. She checked her surroundings, the woods and plains unfamiliar. The snow draped over trees and landed like a drop cloth over furniture. The white powder under her, the white sky above, made everything feel endless and daunting. She didn’t know where to start. She reached for her bow and arrows but they were gone.

But the wolf was tame, she thought, and its sense of smell was superior to her own. Could it help her home? She started to stand up, but the wolf placed a paw on her knee and then rested its head in her lap.

“I need to get up,” Peridot said, stroking its head. “Please?” The wolf closed its eyes and snorted. Peridot tried to move, but its weight pinned her to the spot.

“Perfect,” she said, her tone as dry as the cold air. “This is just perfect.”

The wolf made no reply, one ear twitching. Peridot sighed, grudgingly accepting that she was stuck here until the wolf decided to rise. She kept her hands in its fur which helped her hands stay warm. As her fingers raked up and down its neck, her index and middle finger hooked onto a leather collar. On contact, symbols bloomed forth: the sign for binding interwoven with the sigil for loyalty. Together, subjugation.

The wolf roused from Peridot’s lap, bowing its head, trying to slip out of the collar around its neck. Peridot loosely held the piece of leather, transfixed.

“Stop!”

Peridot whipped her head around, the barrel of a rifle pointed in their direction, held by a woman who appeared her age except for the haggard look in her gray-blue eyes. She was tiny, drowning in a coat of furs, yet she wore it well and held her own. The wolf snorted, disappointed with Peridot, which Peridot did not notice.

“Is that pointed at me or…” She gestured at the red wolf.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Take that collar off and we’ll see.”

Peridot held her hands up, submitting. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” the woman said, not lowering the gun.

“I asked first.”

“You’re in no position to question me.”

“Peridot,” she answered distractedly, her attention drawn to the quiver full of arrows held over the rifle-wielding woman’s shoulder. “Those are mine.” Her bow was there too, over the woman’s other shoulder.

“I didn’t see anyone else,” the woman said, ignoring Peridot.

“Who are you talking to?” Peridot scrunched her nose. “And don’t ignore me!”

“She’s talking to me,” a new voice said. Peridot turned, expecting the wolf, and yelped. In place of the wolf was a burly woman wearing the same ragged coat and collar. Quick realization dawned on Peridot, her pulse fluttering in her chest. Death felt like a strong possibility between the woman with the rifle and the shapeshifter pinning her in place. The collar glowed softly and Peridot was reminded of the symbols. Whether the beast wanted to or not, she would kill Peridot if the woman ordered her. The ounce of comfort Peridot had felt before with the red wolf by her side squashed in her gut.

“Were there others with you?” the woman asked, this time to Peridot.

Peridot dared not make a sarcastic comment. This woman obviously wasn’t used to disobedience, and expected a quick answer. “My mother,” Peridot began, her memory knitting together. “We were out hunting and got caught in a snowstorm.”

The woman and the wolf exchanged a glance.

“She’s not lying, Lapis.”

Lapis did not lower her weapon. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, Jasper?” Seeing that the collar did not react, she lowered the rifle and Jasper let go of Peridot to join her mistress. Just as soon as they reunited, they began to walk away.

“Wait– are you just going to leave me like this? And what about my bow and arrows? Hey. HEY!” Peridot shouted, stumbling after them in the snow. Her legs and feet were prickly from Jasper laying on them.

Jasper looked over her shoulder. “At least give her her arrows back, Lapis.”

“And welcome an arrow into my back? No thanks.”

“She’s harmless.”

“Because she’s disarmed,” Lapis cooly replied.

“She’ll die.”

“Better her than us.”

“You’re selfish.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling without shame.

“I wonder what Steven would think, seeing you leave someone to die.” Jasper said softly. She turned to Peridot again and winked before Lapis noticed.

Lapis’s steps stilled, but not her desire to leave Peridot. She turned briskly, backtracking. Peridot froze to the spot, front teeth clenched, the molars chattering slightly. She wondered if she should run, wary of that look in Lapis’s tired eyes.

Lapis stopped in front of her. She was a few inches shorter than Peridot but that didn’t make her any less intimidating. She appeared petite underneath all the layers and the large coat. There was a threadbare muffler wrapped around her neck. The holes in the cloth essentially made it useless. Lapis held onto it anyway because the cloth offered her some comfort. The dye was faded. It had been the colour of amaranth flowers when it was given to her. “I won’t give you your weapon back, but we will escort you back home– or close enough.”

“Lapis, that’s a waste of our time. Just give her back her arrows.” Jasper’s eyes rested on Peridot for the first time with contempt.

“Armed or not, she’s lost. That’s dangerous enough. You’re right, Jasper. We shouldn’t leave her like this.” There was animosity in her voice and Jasper was annoyed. Peridot didn’t care. She just wanted her bow and arrows so she could return home.

“And then you’ll give me back my belongings?” she asked hopefully.

“I’ll think about it,” Lapis offered. “Which way?”

Peridot whirled around, trying to find a foothold in her surroundings. But there was whiteness everywhere and too much open air.

“I’m… not too sure,“ she answered unsteadily, ashamed to sound so stupid and afraid her incompetence would test Lapis’s mood. The woman buried in furs was complicated, stubborn but fickle too. Even with the push of guilt to incite her, Peridot knew Lapis could easily change her mind whenever the moment suited her.

“Jasper.” She looked at the shapeshifter and tilted her head, gesturing to Peridot.

Jasper trudged through the snow to Peridot and without warning grabbed her by the front of her coat. Jasper pressed her nose to Peridot’s body, inhaling deeply. Her feet skirted the ground, and she became so flustered that when Jasper her that the winter dissolved into a dessert, her coat and thermals suddenly too heavy and hot for her to stand.

Jasper let her fall when she was finished, the snow breaking the impact. Still flustered, it took her a moment to realize she was grounded again. Jasper walked ahead of them, the cold wind catching her hair. Her eyes were closed, nose pointed, sniffing. She walked, following a trail elusive to her and Lapis, walking in circles until she opened her eyes decisively.

“This way,” she said, walking, on two feet, and then four. The change happened so quickly Peridot did a double take. Lapis followed the red wolf silently, used to the fluidity of Jasper’s form.

X

The snow slowed their footsteps. Jasper padded through the frost effortlessly, Peridot wondered if the wolf became restless waiting for them to keep up. She didn’t bark complaint if she did. Lapis was quiet through most of the walk. When she did speak, it was to Jasper, her voice low so only her servant could hear. Lapis rubbed her hands a lot and looked at the frost beadily.

The silence didn’t bother Peridot. She was accustomed to it during her hunting trips with her mother. Silence was the key to a good hunt and they didn’t need words, walking and stalking with perfect synchronicity. Watching Lapis and Jasper, Peridot felt they were the same. Peridot wondered how old the collar was. The symbols were only a couple years old, illuminating brightly against Jasper’s fur. Their relationship drew many questions. Normally, beasts were not bound unless they were dangerous, but of the two, Peridot felt more threatened by Lapis. She didn’t think Lapis was bad either. Just a threat.

Jasper wasn’t happy with the arrangement, Peridot could tell by how eagerly she had tried to slip out of the collar before Lapis found them. But Jasper didn’t seem to hate Lapis, at least not entirely. There was a sort of understanding, not the pity Peridot had initially thought. There was a sympathy that was overlooked by Lapis.

“Do you think your mother survived the snowstorm?” Lapis asked, piercing the silence.

Peridot answer with a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I told you I was out hunting when the storm hit.”

“You said she was with you,” Lapis said. Peridot shook her head.

“She’s at home. Waiting for me. I got restless, staying cooped up in the house. So I went out hunting for some fresh air and to catch something for dinner.”

Lapis played with the holes in her scarf, staring owlishly at Peridot. She looked like she wanted to say something. What she ended up saying Peridot somehow knew wasn’t her initial thought.

“Speaking of dinner. We should catch some.” Lapis whistled, and Jasper rose, treading back to meet them.

“I could help,” Peridot offered, eyeing her bow and quiver slung over Lapis’s shoulder.

“You’re relentless.” Lapis laughed, denying her request.

Jasper was large, Peridot noticed, seeing her stand next to Lapis. On four feet, her head was above Lapis’s hips, but in human form she was six feet tall and towering over her mistress. She shifted between forms with such fluidity that Peridot couldn’t catch up. One moment she was human, speaking to Lapis, the next she bounded past them, chasing a hare, howling as she made chase.

Peridot wanted to join the wolf. She tried reasoning with Lapis again and pointed out it would be more efficient. Lapis took one of her arrows and snapped it over her knee.

“I made those!” she shouted.

“Did you?” Lapis said, pulling out another arrow. Peridot held her breath but Lapis simply inspected it. “It’s really good,” She said.

“I know,” Peridot said arrogantly, watching Lapis put it back in the quiver.

“Did you make the quiver too?” Lapis had slipped the bow and quiver off her shoulder to inspect it. Her clothed fingers followed the designs woven into the leather.

“My mother bought it for me as a present. The bow too.”

Lapis nodded and slung the bow and quiver back over her shoulder. It felt wrong to see someone else carry her weapons. Peridot’s hands itched, thinking of the soft but sturdy leather in her hands, the weight of the quiver on her back, and the reed-like shape of her arrows between her fingers. She missed their comfort as much as she missed her own mother.

X

Jasper returned with five hares, one each for Lapis and Peridot and the remaining three for herself. There was blood sticking to her jaw and across the front of her chest. She ate her meal raw in front of the fire while they waited for their own rabbits to finish cooking. The meat was tough but good. Jasper wanted their scraps, but Lapis told her to hunt more rabbits. They wrapped the rest of the meat up for later but Peridot snuck a piece to Jasper when the surly woman wasn’t looking.

They kept the fire going through the night. Before shifting back into her wolf form, Jasper advised she huddle close to her to keep warm. Jasper’s fur was soft, her body warm. Lapis remained separate from them, keeping watch.

“Doesn’t she ever relax?” Peridot grumbled.

“She’s had a rough life,” Jasper said, returning to human form to speak. Peridot loosened her arms around Jasper, unaware that she had been hugging her until she changed shape.

“What happened?” Peridot found herself asking.

“She was kept. Used for her blood to feed the vampires that kept her prisoner for several years.”

“What are vampires?” She squirmed watching the surprise cross Jasper’s face. It made her feel unintelligent and small. She steepled her fingers nervously, explaining. “I…I’m not used to being around other people. My mother and I live mostly alone. We have servants but they’re not nearly as talkative as you or Lapis. Occasionally, we are visited by merchants but–”

“They are old beings. They come from the dirt and drink blood.”

“Blood?”

Jasper nodded, then paused, wondering. “Do you know what I am?”

Peridot licked her chapped lips. “I have a feeling, but not a word for it.”

Jasper chuckled. “A feeling can be more reliable than words sometimes.”

Lapis had not moved an inch for the whole twenty minutes since they lay down and began talking. Peridot wondered if she was cold. Would she join them? Or would Jasper’s warmth leave Peridot at some hour so she could keep watch?

“How long have you known Lapis?” The question escaped, unbidden from her mouth.

“Too long.” Jasper muttered.

Peridot frowned, unsatisfied with the vague answer. Jasper returned to her wolf shape, signaling an end to the conversation. Her ear against Jasper’s rhythmic heartbeat and the comfort of her fur lulled Peridot to sleep despite the snowfall. She fell into such a deep sleep that she didn’t notice when Lapis had joined them. She heard hushed voices in the dark, their words intangible, oddly merciful towards each other. She woke briefly in the middle of the night to see Lapis breathing gently beside her, her arms wrapped around Jasper’s neck, nuzzling her fur. She petted Jasper in her sleep, an action Peridot imagined never happened when Lapis was awake. It surprised her enough to see the other woman touch her beastly servant.

Jasper was awake, keeping watch, her yellow eyes glinting over Lapis, and then Peridot, realizing she was also awake.

“Did we wake you?” Peridot didn’t hear concern in Jasper’s voice; it was a question to gauge whether Peridot had overheard their conversation. She shook her head.

“You know, we’re both surprised you managed to survive a snowstorm.”

Ah, that must be what they were talking about, Peridot thought. She was a little confused why Jasper brought it up, and maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, she was tired, but she was genuinely curious.

“What snowstorm?”


	2. Chapter 2

Jasper and Lapis didn’t bring up the snowstorm again and Peridot wondered why. She wondered why that had been in question, adding to the questions that piled up observing her two escorts. They kept mostly to themselves, Jasper less so, but she was as concerned for their privacy as Lapis was. 

Peridot learned that the two spoke, one with true and the other with fake animosity that to any stranger appeared all the same. Lapis was as harsh as the winter was, but she had humor under the layers of frost. Her words were often laced with sarcasm. Jasper was crass, and while Lapis would furrow her brow and scowl, she would become quiet, eerily so, a redness rising to her cheeks. 

They were not used to extra company, Peridot could tell. Often they began to talk, their conversation trickling once they turned their heads to follow the sound of an extra set of steps crunching into the snow. Peridot wondered where they were going before they found her. She wanted to ask, that and many questions. She reserved her questions for night, when Lapis was asleep and Jasper kept watch. Jasper answered her questions about vampires and other supernatural beings, mostly including herself. She disclosed that Lapis was a hunter. They were always moving.

The more she learned, the more questions she thought of. When the questions became too personal, or she was tired of talking, Jasper would take her wolf form. Eventually, Peridot would fall back asleep, only to wake several more times in the middle of the night. She was restless; even her dreams were filled with snow.

During these restless hours she would look at the quiver and bow resting beside Lapis. The temptation to take her belongings back would rise, fully waking her. Jasper would follow her gaze, snort, and say nothing. And just when Peridot gathered the courage to begin to reach for her bow Lapis would stir. She was a light sleeper, her fingers loosely tangled in red fur. Once or twice her hands found Peridot’s scalp, mistaking her hair for Jasper’s fur. The night before, Lapis’s hands found her head just as she was reaching for the bow. Peridot’s heart had caught in her throat and eventually she swallowed it down after realizing Lapis was still asleep. Her hand had hung in the air over the quiver but she was already giving up. 

Once she had her hands on the bow and quiver, what would she do? She wasn’t too sure on those restless nights and she was dumbfounded when Lapis presented her bow the next morning. Jasper was hungry and tired of rabbits. For the entire morning Lapis and Peridot had to contend with Jasper’s whining for something different to eat. Never had Peridot seen Jasper in her human form for so long, and she'd changed only to persuade Lapis to shoot down a quail or two. She had a craving for fowl.

“Guns make noise and draw attention.” Lapis replied to these requests.

Peridot’s eyes rested on the gun Lapis carried. It was well kept and looked brand new. The barrel was clean as a whistle and didn’t have scorch marks or scratches. Peridot would have assumed Lapis never fired the gun, but Jasper made no allusion to that possibility when she complained 

Peridot took too long to take the bow back and Lapis shoved it against her chest. 

“Just shoot something for her. Make her quiet.” Lapis sighed, drawing out an arrow and handing it to Peridot.

“Just one arrow?” Peridot stared at it, resting in her palms. It was light, strong, and durable, her finest work. The feathers were a deep emerald green. She had dyed them herself. The arrow head was sharp-- she tested it with her finger. Drew blood. She sucked on her finger, blotting the puncture with her tongue. 

“If you’re good you’ll only need one,” Lapis said. 

Peridot ran her thumb up and down the arrow, smiling before turning to join Jasper, who had run ahead of her. Peridot followed the pawprints and found the wolf crouched behind a dead bush, which extended upwards in several branches like tangled hair. Jasper was peering over the top. Peridot followed her concentrated gaze to a fat pheasant roosting on a nearby hanging branch. It was not alone. There was a flock on the ground, pecking at black specks of seed littered on the snow, a few more sitting on higher branches. Jasper could easily spring from the brush and capture one of the ones on ground, but they were lean. Peridot understood the wolf’s priorities. Once they disturbed them, they would only get one chance to shoot, even if they'd had more than one arrow. This was one of many reasons Peridot liked hunting: mapping out a situation and pick the most viable option, discovering the strategy behind stalking and shooting down prey. 

She could hunt by herself but she preferred a partner. Standing beside Jasper made Peridot think of times when her mother took her into the forest. She taught Peridot everything: how to craft her arrows, to step quietly, move downwind and wait, and make her arrow fly. Peridot remembered these times as intimate, especially in the winter, having nothing else but the warmth of her mother beside her, coaxing, guiding her.

“Remember.” Even now, with her arrow nocked directly towards the pheasant, Peridot could hear her mother’s voice, her advice as crisp as the cold wind. “We must hunt before we are hunted.”

A gunshot pierced the air before Peridot’s arrow could. Peridot’s hands nearly slipped but the frosty air helped them still. Jasper craned her neck, barking fiercely. Peridot could only assume those barks were Lapis’s name. The gunshot and the barking stirred the pheasants. They shot up into the air like feathered flies. The fat one, their target, bobbed upwards like a helium-powered craft, its wings fluttering. Peridot felt disappointed by the interruption, broken away from the spell of the hunt. She watched the birds escape and wondered if she should follow Jasper or run the other way. 

She followed Jasper, unsure if she was wise or stupid. She was not brave, she knew that. 

Jasper leapt over the hill. Peridot crouched and let herself slide. Downhill, they found Lapis where they had left her. Now she was surrounded. Bandits, Peridot thought, until she saw it wasn’t just their clothes that were threadbare but their skin as well. The skin was dry and stretched over bone. The excess skin hung like curtains and whipped in the wind. The smell was unbearable. Peridot was silently thankful for the winter, reducing the stench of decay.

Jasper peeled past the scurry of bones and expired flesh. One of the beings had Lapis in a chokehold. Jasper clamped her mouth on its arm, and though it felt no pain, the instinct of surprise was still present in the skeletal creature. It let go of Lapis, moving its arm wildly to throw Jasper off. Jasper let go, landed on the snow on all fours, then rose up on two legs, barreling back towards it and its cavalry. 

Lapis didn’t take a moment to recover. She threw off her heavy coat, revealing a lighter coat underneath. She drew a dagger from one of the pouches. Her gun was at Peridot’s feet, yards away. Peridot nearly tripped over it. She picked it up, the weapon alien in her hands. 

She knew she should help but she didn’t know how. She only had one arrow, and though she was a hunter, she was no fighter. She was a coward, standing helplessly, watching the two trying to hold off the skeleton crew. 

Without the heavy coat holding her down, Lapis was fast, like moving water. She evaded decaying hands, finding openings and creeping between spaces. She manipulated them to move where she wanted them to. Her strikes were not as clean as the rest of her form, her knife and knuckles slick with coagulated blood. 

Jasper was beside her, grabbing and throwing bodies like dead weight. The heavy, rotting bodies clouded her acute nose. She was eager to toss them aside but they always came back. 

“Finish them!” Lapis shouted, somehow over the throng she was fighting. “They’ll just come back if you do that!”

“I know that!” Jasper barked.

They were in their own brittle world, unconcerned with the fact that Peridot was gaping and doing nothing. They didn’t care or notice when one of the dead careened to Peridot. Its arms thrashed wildly. It chattered and screamed, neck crooked, with bone jutting out like ivory shards. Peridot dropped the rifle with a start and began to run. She gripped the bow and arrow in her hands until she felt nothing else. It would chase her endlessly. Death granted it the ability to not be aware of its body’s limits. It ran even when muscle cried or bone splintered. It would not rest until it took her and put its mouth to her throat. 

Peridot swallowed and whirled around. With a leap of good faith in her arrow, she drew the bow and let it fly free. Her hands were warm now, pulse jumping. The arrow missed and she ran again, this time towards Lapis and Jasper. She wasn’t sure why she was fleeing directly into the fighting pit itself. Maybe she thought she could cower downwards while they fought above her. Maybe the dead would ignore her, preoccupied by other foes.

Lapis saw her and tossed the quiver. Peridot caught it, the leather heavy in her hands. She slung the pack over her shoulder where it belonged, though she doubted that she could utilize her bow and arrow properly for combat. This was the heat of the moment, no calculated task. Peridot’s hands fumbled and she increasingly felt useless. 

Jasper was at Peridot's back, holding them off. Peridot could feel Jasper’s confidence in Lapis, leaving her to fight alone, and consequently felt Jasper’s concern for her. There were so many of them and Peridot wasn’t sure where to start. She would begin to nock an arrow and it would slip clumsily against the bow, her hands shaking, arms rigid. 

She was numb. She dropped her bow. Her hands at her sides, she distantly felt fur brush her palm. She gripped tufts of red hair, and found the leather collar, heavy with symbols. The marks flashed in her head: binding, loyalty. Together: subjugation. Somehow she knew, holding the collar, that if she set Jasper free she would be stronger, that the collar was holding her back. There was no doubt in Peridot’s mind that Jasper would continue to protect them. She gripped the collar decisively and light began to pour out, an aurora borealis glinting over the white snowcaps. 

Lapis saw the colors and felt the marks weaken. She stopped what she was doing. “Don’t!”

Peridot didn’t hear her. All she heard was her heart hammering in her skull. She pulled the collar off and didn’t even feel her arm move. She only felt the collar in her hand, a hot thread, and then, suddenly frozen metal.

Jasper kicked off. The force ruffled Peridot’s scarf. She stared straight ahead at nothing. Behind her, around her, she heard skulls crack, the sick sound of flesh tearing, until there was nothing else to hear but Jasper’s panting breath, fog rolling out of her mouth, lined with blood.

“You,” she said to Peridot, wiping her mouth clean on the sleeve of her coat. Her voice helped Peridot break out of shock. Tentatively, she reached for Jasper. She needed to feel her soft fur. She found skin instead, warm and wet with blood and sweat, not as comforting. 

“You freed me,” Jasper continued, with a bewildered smile. As she smiled her lips peeled back, revealing two sharp rows of serrated teeth. The canine tooth on the right was chipped and Peridot wondered underneath her apprehension what the story behind that was. 

Peridot didn’t reply, her mouth dry. She was still reeling from the fight and the corpses at their feet. Lapis was the opposite. She ran on top of the dead, bones snapping like twigs under her feet. The rifle was in her hands now. Her lips and cheeks were red and she was shuddering with displaced anger and fear. She slowed, nearing them, and aimed the rifle at Jasper.

Jasper slipped out of Peridot’s loose grasp, backing away, then moving forwards, testing Lapis’s limits. Lapis’s nostrils flared. Her finger closed on the trigger, a sound, as decisive and low as a thunderclap shot through the air. 

Peridot held her breath. Jasper became a blur of red fur and fled. Lapis aimed to shoot again, gritted her teeth and chased after her. Peridot followed, not wanting to be alone.

“Jasper!” Lapis screamed. Peridot struggled to keep up. The other woman was faster than her. She ended up following footprints and the voice persistently shouting after Jasper. When Peridot reunited with her, Lapis was out of breath, palm pressed to a birch tree. 

At the sound of Peridot’s footsteps, Lapis lifted her head, expression hopeful. Her face fell at the sight of Peridot. 

“You. You let her go!” Out of breath, Lapis still found the capacity to shout at her. 

“I was afraid,” Peridot replied. “I couldn’t think of what else to do.”

“I should have left you.” Her voice bit like frost.

“. . .I guess you should have. Then Jasper would be your prisoner forever.”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“You missed her,” Peridot said. “You didn’t want to shoot her. So you missed.”

Lapis glared and Peridot continued. “When you were fighting those. . . those things you were ruthless. You didn’t hesitate, but you did. . .” As she spoke everything came into place. “Back then, when you found us, you weren’t pointing the gun at her.” A chill ran down her spine as she said the last piece. “You were aiming for me.”

The dirty look didn’t dissolve and her frown did not move an inch, but Lapis’s voice was soft. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t see her as a monster. I can’t kill her. Couldn’t.”  
She slumped against the tree, a sigh shuddering out of her thin body. Lapis was not wearing her heavy coat, left behind in the midst of chaos. The coat which had swallowed Lapis whole had made her appear small, but now, without it, without Jasper, she was shrunken, wrapping her arms around herself and crouching low. Peridot helped her up, slipped her arm out of her coat and draped part of it over Lapis while still wearing it. They walked through the forest and back into open air. Peridot paused, looking around her.

“This is my home.” She recognized the strong oak, the frozen creek, the smell of wood burning, a hint of cinnamon warming her nostrils. She walked faster, this time outrunning Lapis.

A large estate came into view, as tall and grand as a castle. Nearly half of the building was made of brick. This was the oldest part of the manor. The rest was made of pungent cedar wood and had stood for only thirty years. Peridot had known the building as it was her entire life. She was ten years younger than the expansion. Lapis was behind her, clutching Peridot’s coat over her shoulders, breath fogging in the air.

“What is something this bold doing in the middle of nowhere?” she whispered, her eyes drawn in suspicion.

“Mother likes her space and to be comfortable,” Peridot explained. “We have a stable. I’ll let you take a horse in return for helping me.” She noted how Lapis clung to Peridot’s coat, but not the skeptical look in her eyes. “You can keep the coat too.” Peridot’s hand clutched the leather collar she was still holding onto. Silently, she thought, ‘And I’ll keep this.’ 

Lapis said nothing but seemed to agree, following Peridot to the stable accessible through the side gate. Peridot dug out a key she kept around her neck and unlocked the door. The wind took hold of the door and the door groaned painfully at being forced open. The noise made Peridot flinch.

She extended her hand, inviting Lapis to go first, but Lapis shook her head. 

“It’s your place,” she said, though Peridot had a feeling that wasn’t it. Lapis’s was twiddling with her scarf, making the already large holes larger. 

The courtyard was the same as when Peridot left. The fountain was frozen, the bushes and trees leafless and wiry. There was an old tree in the center of the yard, the trunk a deep dark ochre now. In the spring, this place will be bright and green, Peridot thought. It was oddly quiet without the fountain running. The wind gusted occasionally, tossing their hair in their faces. The horses poked their heads out from atop the stable gates, ears twitching at the sound of their approach. There were four horses. One of them Peridot didn’t expect to be in there: the one that she had taken out hunting, a speckled filly that whinnied at her in recognition. 

“How did you find your way home?”

Footsteps behind her, soft and careful. She thought it was Lapis, still trailing cautiously behind, but the other woman was by her side. Her back was to Peridot, focused on the owner of the footsteps, shaking, Peridot assumed from the cold. Peridot’s concern for Lapis was fleeting, recognizing the woman joining them. 

“Mother!” she exclaimed despite herself. She wanted to run into her arms too but she merely walked to meet her halfway, consciously aware of how childish she would appear in front of Lapis. 

Her mother's thin lips stretched into a smile and she greeted Peridot with open arms. There were several things her mother could have said. She could have asked her worriedly if she was okay; she could have shown her surprise and asked how she made it back home, weeping. She could have even more simply said, “Hello.” But of all things, she said one word, spoken evenly, that made no sense at all:

“Sleep,” she said. The word rung in Peridot’s ears. Her body felt heavy, as if the ground were pulling her in. Lapis’s shouts fell on deaf ears. Fast asleep, Peridot forgot the world around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all again Oct 17th!


	3. Chapter 3

The sharp smell of ammonia roused Peridot. She woke groggy, disoriented by her surroundings. She had expected snow but she found herself instead in the parlor, warm and comfortable, wrapped in blankets. A fire was dancing in the fireplace, the smell of burning wood slowly washing away the ammonia smell.

“How are you feeling?” her mother Jaune asked. There was a glass flask in her hand, corked, filled with smelling salts. That was what had woken her. Peridot’s nose twitched, still feeling its sting.

“What happened?” she asked, her mind foggy, conjuring images of a red wolf that changed shapes and a gun pointed to her, the smell of rot intermingling with the ammonia that wouldn’t leave her fast enough.

“You fell into a fever,” Jaune explained, cupping her face. Her hands were smooth, her face only slightly lined. The wrinkles were the main hint of her age, coupled with the wisdom in her eyes and the way she carried herself. She caressed Peridot’s cheek and leaned forward to kiss the birthmark on her forehead. Funny, Peridot thought, her head didn’t feel hot, but she was dizzy.

Jaune pocketed the glass flask. Peridot noticed there was a book in her mother’s lap, a yellow ribbon poking out as a bookmark. She imagined her mother stayed up looking after her and her cheeks colored in shame. The dancing imagery of Jasper and Lapis faded into mist, a dream from her fever. But she had never dreamed so vividly. Peridot likened sleep to a black curtain falling over her consciousness. It was nothing extraordinary. She was about to share her dream with Jaune when the other woman stood up.

“I’ll fetch you something to eat.” Catching the confusion in Peridot’s eyes, mistaking it for helplessness, she added, “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

Peridot nodded. She took the book Jaune was reading from the chair and began reading it from the beginning, careful not to misplace the yellow ribbon. The text was dry and elevated her nerves. When Jaune returned she was only a page in. She didn’t leave a bookmark of her own before setting it aside.

A tray was placed in her lap, containing a piping hot bowl of chicken soup, dumplings buoying in the broth and a cup of elderflower cordial. Both smelled heavenly, and Peridot ate her soup as quickly as she could while still retaining her manners. She had the strange feeling that this was her first hot meal in days. When she finished a servant came for the tray, as silent as a wisp. Their body was covered completely, dressed in long robes. Peridot always thought it was strange that the servants wore this in the summer too, including the gloves. Whatever her mother’s reason, it was not for modesty. Peridot and Jaune didn’t acknowledge the servant with eye contact. Jaune did however order that they run a bath.

“You’re sweating all over.” She frowned, touching Peridot’s clammy face.

The bath was greatly appreciated. Peridot felt like she hadn’t bathed in days. The hot bath scalded her, turning her skin bright red, but her mother insisted she sit down and submit to a hard scrubbing. She only began to shiver when her mother’s attentions became gentler, touching the tender spots on her body with her hands and lips. She felt soft pinpricks on her neck and would have fell faint if it wasn’t for the sulfur smell coming from the bath, like the smelling salts, keeping her awake. Peridot clung to her mother as she suckled on her neck, one hand between them, stroking her well after she came.

After the bath, Jaune dried her off and dressed her. She ran a comb through her short hair; she always took care of Peridot with meticulous affection. She didn’t need to brush Peridot’s hair more than three strokes. It was short and never really tangled. Peridot had tried several times to grow her hair out, but she just never could. She envied her mother’s hair, soft and past her shoulders, usually pinned up.

Although she had only been awake for two hours, Jaune tucked her into bed. Peridot didn’t fight her, couldn’t. What energy she had had been lost in the bath. She always tired after her mother’s affections. She could always drain the fight out of her.

She recovered well the next morning, though her mind was still full of delirium and snow. Her mother slept till past noon, leaving Peridot to her own hobbies. She dressed in a simple tunic with trousers and thermals underneath that to combat the chill in the air permeating through the cracks of the estate.

A cup of tea or ale was ready for her in the kitchen, as well as a biscuit and cream and a bowl of soup, all prepared by the servants that pattered in the background, not making conversation. They almost seemed to ignore Peridot, faces bowed, covered by gray cowls. They only noticed her when she needed something or gave them orders. They never said, “Yes, young mistress,” or “Right away.” Their silence was strange now. Last night when she was sleeping, Peridot recalled biting words between her and Lapis. But Lapis wasn’t real, Peridot reasoned. And Jasper wasn’t. There were no such creatures who changed shapes, she thought, disappointed, as she brushed her hunting dogs’ fur. Their fur was short and their ears droopy and domestic, the opposite of the shapeshifter’s unruly hair and pointed conical ears. She buried her face in their fur, but it wasn’t the same.

She felt lonely, crafting more arrows and re-reading her favorite books. The days folded into each other, same as all the rest, and the night was no different, but she was less lonesome. She drank wine over dinner with her mother before they supped on each other’s flesh. Nothing extraordinary happened, not in her waking moments. When she finally fell asleep she buried herself in Jasper’s fur, and Lapis spoke over snow storms, a regular pattern until she began dreaming about the summer.

She was fifteen and the sun was merciless against her back, warm with a sheen of sweat. She was in the courtyard, playing with her dogs until something up above caught her eye. Black specks wafted from the oval-shaped attic window. When she began to climb the stairs to investigate, real sunlight woke her. She forgot the dream, and then remembered it as she experienced it again, from the beginning. She made it past the stairs, heart beating in her palm, body slick with sweat. She placed her hand upwards to lift the attic door. It greeted her with the sharp cry of rusty hinges. That was uncharacteristic of her mother, who was fussy about keeping the estate in pristine condition. Peridot had made a note to tell the servants to fix the door and she patted herself on the back, thinking how her mother would praise her for her attentiveness and initiative.

This feeling of pride was fleeting. The attic was dusty and decrepit. It should have made her think of more tasks for the servants to attend to, but the spider webs hanging from the walls like silver hair and darkness closing in on both sides inspired fear instead. Peridot determinedly trekked further up the stairs into the attic, fist clenched, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling pressing into her backside that made her feel like she was being watched.

The hot afternoon sun sneaked through the cracks in the ceiling and through the window. Somehow, instead of calming her paranoia, the faint traces of light heightened her sense of foreboding. The floorboards creaked under her feet and she wondered, spirit dampening, if she would fall through. She became more careful. It was terrifying to be afraid in your own home, and she didn’t even know why she was. The vulnerability grated at her. She wanted to turn back but she was stubborn. She didn’t want to lose this fight. This was her home and her mother had assured her when she was a child that nothing would harm her here. To turn back was a blasphemy to her peace of mind and her mother.

So she walked through the attic despite the darkness and the possibly rotten floorboards. On both sides of her were rows of narrow wooden crates. The wood was relatively new, newer than the precarious ground under her feet. She felt disquieted by their presence, aware that they could fit an adult body.

The crates all had lids that Peridot discovered slid off once the latch was unfastened. She did not want to free the lid, but she had to or this place would haunt her. She undid the lid to find something mundane to quiet her mind. What she found were black beetles swarming over a corpse, picking them clean until there was only bone. The skull and upper body were ready. For what Peridot didn’t want to know. The middle of the body where most of the organs lay was still mostly there and nearly all the beetles congregated there. Blessedly, this meant Peridot couldn’t see the exposed organs and fleshy remains, only a curtain of beetles undulating over the abdomen. Larva squirmed over bone and eggs, glowing pearlescent under the slivers of light.

Peridot fell to her knees and threw up. The sight and smell crippling her vigor. A maternal hand gently rubbed her back. She hesitantly looked up to meet the owner’s face. She woke up, heart hammering in her chest and sweating under the blankets, her appetite lost. Each morning after she had the dream she couldn’t eat breakfast.

The dreams of summer faded fast once she found Jasper’s collar. A cowled servant was cleaning her mother’s dressing room as she slept in the adjoining room. The servant was meticulous and silent, the collar held in their arms among the gloves, cloaks, and stumpy candle ends.

The marks for loyalty and binding were dull with disuse, and if it wasn’t for the traces of power and the soft smell of wet dog Peridot would have thought it an ordinary band of leather. She stalked the servant, drawing no suspicion. It would be hours before her mother would wake. For once Peridot was glad that she was nocturnal.

She followed the servant to the laundry room, relieving themselves of the clothes but keeping the the candles and the collar. Peridot continued to follow them and began to think it was strange that the servant didn’t turn their head and ask what she needed or make any normal, human reaction. The candles were released into a wooden bucket with all the others. The wax would be melted down to make more candles. The servant had yet to let go of the collar. Peridot continued to follow. She contemplated snatching it from their hands but she found she didn’t have to. It was tossed in the fireplace in the parlor without a second glance, the servant passing through the room like vapor.

Peridot jumped to her hands and knees, eyes wide, clenching her teeth, making a surprised wheezing noise in the back of her throat. The flames lapped at the collar. She started to reach for it with her hand then reconsidered, drawing back. Her next real attempt was with the fireplace poker. She flicked it out quickly. Flames had begun to eat at the ends, but against the cold stone floor they were quickly extinguished. She tossed the fireplace poker aside and knelt to pick up the collar, breathing hard. It was real, tangible in her hands. It smelled like Jasper and ashes, and despite just being pulled from the fire, it was cold as ice in her hands. She held it against her chest using her clothed arms to support it as she dashed back to her room. It was too cold to hold for long with her bare hands.

She waited hours in her room, the door shut and bolted, staring at the collar. She was waiting to wake up. She didn’t realize how long she had been scrutinizing the reality of the situation until a crisp knock pulled her from the questions spinning in her head.

“Coming!” she called and quickly stored the collar down the front of her tunic. The material bit into her skin like frost. The pain grounded her, heart beating fast. When her head should be swimming, she was clear-headed. She willed the questions and sprouting doubts to the back of her mind, Jaune’s foot tapping impatiently on the other side of the door.

“You don’t normally lock your door,” Jaune commented after Peridot opened the door. She uncrossed her arms and strode in, giving Peridot’s room and then Peridot a once-over.

“I was… scared,” Peridot admitted.

The hard scrutiny in Jaune’s eyes softened and she closed the space between them. Peridot felt a lump catch in her throat as Jaune spread her fingers over her shoulders, gripping her firmly. “Nothing can harm you here,” she reassured, and before Peridot could reply Jaune drew her into a hug, meditatively rubbing her backside. It was meant to calm her but all Peridot could think of was the hot summer, carnivorous beetles shuffling over corpses, and Jaune’s hand on her backside as her body shook, heaving until there was blood speckled in her vomit.

Jasper’s collar bit into her skin as Jaune hugged her and Peridot wondered if the other woman could feel it protruding from under her clothes. The winter layers may have aided her deception, and the marks were weak enough to go undetected. The tenderness in her mother’s expression didn’t fluctuate. The only question she asked Peridot was why she was afraid.

“I don’t know.” Again, she wasn’t lying.

X

Dinner was hard to swallow. The lump reemerged in her throat. She made herself drunk, trying to loosen the knot with wine. She didn’t remember much then, only that she wasn’t afraid.

She bolted awake the next morning, remembering the collar, and patted the front of her body down in a panic. Relief washed over her at the bite of the collar’s presence, followed by a piercing headache. She was still wearing her clothes from last night.

She drew the covers over her face, ignoring sunlight and the servants tugging at the covers for her attention. They gave up, but an hour later placed a glass of water and breakfast next to her bed. She drank the water but her breakfast was too cold to eat when she finally decided to try.

Her head ached but her nerves were fine now, and the collar was still in her possession. Its existence told her two things: Jasper and Lapis were not characters born from her loneliness, and they were here.

The first place that came to mind was the attic from her summer dream. Her stomach lurched at that thought, the scent of carrion flowers fresh in her mind. She came to the attic, mentally prepared for the worst. She wondered if it really helped to imagine Jasper and Lapis’s bodies decomposing and swarming with carnivorous beetles. If anything could really prepare her for a smell so sickening and sweet.

She pressed her palms up against the attic door and hesitated. The air was dense and cold, not humid, but the action felt the same as in her dreams. The cold draft kept her grounded, diverging the dreams from the present. She rolled up her sleeves to welcome the chill and pushed her weight up, opening the attic door.

Although it was well through the morning, the attic was pitch dark. Narrow slivers of light tried to creep through but the dark seemed to push it back. Peridot returned with a lantern, still jittery. The lantern cast a warm autumn glow over the attic. The floor under her feet felt firm as she paced the room.

The attic was barren. Still. Peridot searched thoroughly, but there was no one and nothing was there. Not even a speck of dust. 

Unsatisfied but relieved, she descended down the stairs. Midway, she heard a sharp crackle under the heel of her boot. It was the husk of a beetle, its shell cracked in half.

X

Her search was cut short when evening approached. She cursed herself for making a late start to her day and made sure to leave her bedroom door open.

“How are you feeling?” Jaune asked, crossing over the threshold.

Peridot set the book she was skimming in her lap. “My headache’s gone away.”

“You drank a lot.”

“Yes.”

“What were you trying to forget?”

“I don’t know,” she said, completely honest. The bed creaked as Jaune sat next to her. Without thinking, seeking her warmth, Peridot leaned against her. “I’ve been having these dreams. The wine helps.”

“Excess will undo you,” Jaune advised, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What have you been dreaming about?”

Peridot told her about the dreams and her venture to the attic over dinner between bites of veal cutlet and potatoes. Wine was purposely withheld from the dinner table tonight, in its place a kettle of lavender-chamomile tea.

She admitted her uncertainty and quickly apologized for it. Jaune told her she had nothing to apologize for but Peridot doubted that. A strange expression crossed Jaune’s face, barely visible by candlelight. Peridot decided the expression was hurt and indignation and apologized again.

Their appetites made the dinner short and they continued the conversation in the parlor, the fire roaring in the background. The heat of the flames reminded Peridot of the servant tossing Jasper’s collar into the pit and subconsciously she pressed a hand to her chest, checking for the collar’s presence in the lining of her clothes. The fire poker she had thrown aside was back in place. Occasionally a servant drifted to toss in another log and stoke the flames.

“I know it’s senseless to be afraid,” Peridot said, curled up in her mother’s lap.

Jaune shook her head. “It’s because I’m away when you need me most.” Her fingers were long, trailing up Peridot’s throat.

Peridot flushed, aware of Jaune’s intentions, her touch traveling to errant places, full and firm with purpose. Normally she gave herself to her mother, but as those long fingers slipped under her clothes she became worried, conscious of the collar hidden between the layers.

Jaune tilted her head, pulling her hand back. “Are you still troubled, darling?”

Peridot caught her hand, and for the first time, she lied, her voice shaking. “No.”

“You are. You are.” Jaune kissed her knuckles, then her lips. “But you have nothing to worry about. I will keep you safe.”

“I know, mother.”

“Jaune.”

The request was the only one Peridot couldn’t bring herself to adhere to. It felt disrespectful to call the woman who raised her by her first name. Although they were not related, Peridot had always seen Jaune as her mother and as thanks for her kindness gave her the honorary title. Peridot was disheartened that Jaune didn’t appreciate the sentiment, and that her impulse for respect made her uncomfortable. She chewed her lip and rather than talk, rather than draw suspicion, leaned to kiss her again. When Jaune’s hands reached up her shirt, Peridot gently led it down her pants instead.

The surprise in Jaune’s face almost wilted Peridot’s boldness. “Interesting… “

Peridot reddened, feeling caught, the collar cold and hot against her skin. “Um, is that bad?”

“It’s different,” Jaune replied, flashing her teeth. Her fingers spread at the back of Peridot’s neck and pushed her forward. The other hand down her pants rubbed against her sex. Her underwear was in the way, dulling the sensation. Peridot whined and frotted against her mother’s fingers, all while keeping the secret clothed between them. Whenever Jaune made a move to touch her chest she batted her hands away, pretending it was a burst of dominance, unknown to her until now. Jaune liked it. She smiled, nipped at her flesh. She peeled back the collar of Peridot’s shirt and her teeth sank into that spot where shoulder meets neck.

“Ah–” Peridot moaned, gripping her. Her shoulder was suddenly warm and wet, the sharp scent of copper underlining the deep musk of her arousal. She felt Jaune’s tongue delicately dab at the puncture wound to catch her blood. When the flow dampened, Jaune nipped and sucked at the flesh to encourage it. Her fingers pulled aside Peridot’s underwear and took her clit– now a hard, throbbing nub– between her thumb and forefinger. She pinched, stroked, and pinched again, and between the blood loss and her mother’s attentions, Peridot felt herself grow weak. She barely registered coming, slipping into sleep.

X

She had more momentum the next day, waking before the servants had finished making breakfast. She searched every floor of the estate, her hands trying every corner, every loose brick and crack. Her hands and knees were dusty from hunting on all fours. She forgot to return to the kitchen for breakfast and sometime near noon a servant caught up with her and surreptitiously placed a plate of scones and glass of juice on the floor next to her.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she muttered to herself, dusting off her hands before reaching for a scone. She bit into it, eyes searching for a lead.

There was no single reason why she needed to find Jasper and Lapis. At first it was to sate her sanity, then her loneliness, and then, knowing they were somewhere here, but where and why, she began to wonder other things. She would be too afraid to find the answer if she wasn’t naturally inquisitive. Actively choosing ignorance frightened her more. The need to know spurred her on despite the lead weight in her gut and that persistent lump in her throat.

But everyone had their reasons, and she wanted to learn her mother’s for keeping the two women away from her. They were not entirely harmless, but they had helped her find her way home. What crime was there in that? What did Peridot not know?

Peridot prided herself on being clever and the longer her search ran dry, the more frustrated she became. She called a servant for a glass of wine, something to loosen her nerves. Maybe she was thinking too hard. That was it, surely, as long as she had only one glass. She didn’t want a repeat of the other night…

That was it– the one place she had overlooked. The wine cellar. Of course she had forgotten it. She had only been there a handful of times. Before the servant returned with the wine she was gone. She may have passed them halfway. She wasn’t sure; they all were dressed the same, seeming to flitter around the estate like silent shadows. Her own shadow melted into the dark as she reached the cellar door behind the kitchen. There was an unlit lantern hanging from a peg embedded in the wall. She took the lantern but didn’t light it yet. She entered the back room, allowing herself to be swallowed in darkness.

The door to the cellar was at her feet. She knelt down. Her hand quickly found the large brass handle, almost as cold as the collar hidden under her clothes. The door was fastened, a lock in place. There were voices whispering below in the dark beyond dark. Peridot laid her head down on the door like it was a pillow and listened:

“I gave you fresh air and open sky. I let you walk in the daylight. I gave you freedom! What more did you want?”

“My freedom, Lapis. My freedom.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very hard to write (you’ll see why) and took me nearly a month to write.

Peridot could faintly hear Lapis’s exasperation through the door. “I gave you fresh air and open sky, I let you walk in the daylight. I gave you freedom! What more did you want?”

And Jasper’s voice, meditative but worn: “My freedom, Lapis. My freedom.”

Lapis made a noise, scoffing.

“You’re no different than this woman keeping us here,” Jasper said, and nothing more after that. Peridot kept her ear pressed to the door, body to the ground, waiting for a retort from Lapis or for Jasper to speak again, but all that greeted her was the stale air. She wondered if she was imagining things. Now was the time to find out if she was. She stalked out of the backroom and past the kitchen to the parlor. There the fireplace roared, even during the day, all winter long.

Peridot borrowed a bit of flame from the fireplace to light the wick and headed back to the cellar, her steps hurried and heavy with purpose. The lantern brought the cellar door into light. Peridot made quick work of the lock fastened to the latch, then started to pull the door up. From experience, she knew to tie a rope to the bronze handle and the other end to the ceiling beam. The ceiling on this floor of the estate was low, but she still had to stand on her toes to reach it. She vaguely remembered her mother having no problems doing this, gifted with height and with a preference for heeled shoes. The rope taut, holding the cellar door open, and lantern lit in hand, Peridot descended down the steps.

The cellar smelled like cold mud. At first Peridot saw only wine barrels, each stamped with the emblem of the company they originated from. Beyond the barrels were rows of wooden wine racks. Only one or two spaces were empty. Jaune liked the finer things and made sure her collection was well stocked.

There were old vintages here, but none of them were older than her mother. Plenty were older than Peridot. There was a particular bottle that her mother had kept, made the same year Peridot was born. They would share a glass of that wine on her birthday. Peridot saw the bottle from the corner of her eye and then spotted a rust red tail flicking back and forth on the ground, cat-like.

Peridot lifted the lantern high, shedding light on the form. Large, narrow, yellow eyes stared back at her, glinting in the dark, but it was not a wolf staring at her, and not a human either.

Jasper’s face looked tired and lined, caked with mud. She sat up at Peridot’s scent, tail tentatively wagging. As Peridot approached she moved to meet her, but was quickly pulled back. A steel collar was around her neck, connected to a chain only an arm’s length long. Agitatedly, Jasper tested the chain and collar, and Peridot had the feeling the shapeshifter had done this several times before. Maybe it was Jasper’s frustration, or the way Lapis watched her charge with a shade of pity.

The sight was startling, even though Peridot had expected it. She clenched the lantern, unsure what to feel, do, or say. She had hoped they were here somewhere, but now she regretted that hope, feeling selfish. They had escorted her across frosty plains and in return she had let them rot. Peridot averted her eyes, drawing the lantern down, unable to look her mother’s captives in the eyes.

She turned her back on them, escaping the cellar, their dungeon. The lantern clenched tight in her hand, she paced the estate, her mind blank, feet taking flight. At some point she abandoned the lantern and found herself in front of the stables. The noon sun floated above the snow-piled treetops. Peridot picked her favorite steed, a white horse with black speckles on her snout. The horse was gentle, good for quiet strolls. She whinnied dejectedly at Peridot’s pull on the reins, urging her fast. Faster.

Peridot was not thinking clearly. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing, riding their most sweet-tempered horse ragged. Maybe she had meant to hunt; she’d forgotten her quiver and arrows. She didn’t mean to run away. Her experience taught her she wasn’t fit to wander, especially in this harsh winter.

She only wanted to go. Away. To clear her head, to feel the cold until she was numb and couldn’t feel anymore.

But she continued to feel. She felt the soft-hearted filly’s lungs heave between her ankles, she felt the snow fall on her forehead. When she returned home shortly before nightfall, she felt Lapis and Jasper’s presence under her feet, through the floorboards. She could still see the neck wounds Lapis sported, as if the other woman had been mauled by a beast since Peridot had last seen her. That vacant look in her grey eyes chilled her and she could still hear Jasper barking at her backside as she trembled up the steps.

Peridot wondered if she was a bad person, leaving them there. She considered returning to the cellar with blankets. The one Lapis had was as threadbare as her amaranth-colored scarf. She had looked sickly too. Before Peridot could do anything, give them blankets or warm food, night descended and her mother was at her door, lips pursed in concern.

The fire roared in the parlor and each room and hallway was heralded by candlelight, candles held in sconces. The bath was warm, nearly boiling from the plumbing that directed water from a hot spring. Peridot was cold regardless, her fingers stiff in Jaune’s hands.

Her mother asked her, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Finally, Peridot answered, body numb save for her heart that wouldn’t stop beating hard against her chest.

“I found people in the cellar,” she whispered hoarsely, unsure if her mother’s touch was helping or making her condition worse. Her mother had been a beacon to her when she was frightened or when her anxiety crippled her. As a child she had slept in her mother’s bed rather than her own. The scent of primrose was synonymous with security, but as her mother held her hand she felt herself wilting.

Peridot was perplexed. Her mother did not look surprised, and her lower lip didn’t fidget nervously. She looked almost calm, malevolence touching her features as her eyes hardened over Peridot.

“Why were you in the cellar?” she asked grimly, and then, softening, maternal and changing the subject. “Were you drinking again?” Ever since that night Peridot had drunk her anxiety away, her mother had been careful about allowing wine at the dinner table, even abstaining from it herself.

Peridot shook her head. “No– why… why are Lapis and Jasper there? Don’t change the subject, Mother. I ought to know.” She bit her lip. “I trust you have your reasons. I wish to understand them.”

“Lapis? Jasper?” Her eyebrows shot up, finally reacting with mild surprise. “They were trespassing.”

“They were escorting me back home,” Peridot corrected, although, she could understand where the confusion came from. They both liked to keep to themselves. Outsiders were normally turned away, unless they were merchants, which Jaune found it in herself to tolerate for the sake of business.

Jaune let go of Peridot’s hands and folded them neatly in her lap, sighing soundlessly. “Do you really believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Peri, when I found you, you were feverish and bone cold. The wolf was bloody and the woman threatened me with a knife. There is no alternative, no coincidence. I take no chances.” She picked up one of Peridot’s arrows from it’s quiver hanging on a peg. “We must hunt, before we are hunted.”

Peridot frowned, turning away. “I know, but–”

“Hesitation will kill us both.”

“What are you going to do to them?”

Jaune didn’t answer her. She set the arrow on the table in front of Peridot, a subtle reminder. She glided out of the room, her hand paused on the marble-lined threshold, and she looked over her shoulder.

“Don’t feel guilty.” And, more quietly, a warning that Peridot felt more than heard: “Don’t go into the cellar again. Do not pity them.”

But Peridot could do nothing else but feel guilt and pity for Jasper and Lapis, suffering beneath their feet. As Peridot poked at her food, during dinner, during breakfast, all she could think of was the shrunken look in Jasper’s eyes, and how her body, still large, had become distinctly narrow. Lapis had looked nourished enough but she was barely hanging on. The woman had a broken animalistic look in her eyes. In the cellar again, the next afternoon, nothing had changed about their appearances. They looked as miserable as ever and Peridot felt some of her guilty conscience go away as she wrapped them both in blankets.

She had brought beef consume from lunch with her. She poured a bowl for Jasper, who gratefully lapped it up. Lapis was loath to be spoon-fed, but she accepted, scowling.

“The soup is cold.”

“It’s the best I could scrounge up on short notice.” Although the servants didn’t talk, Peridot was afraid to accidentally garner their attention after her mother had warned her not to go to the cellar again.

Lapis turned her head away as Peridot attempted to spoon-feed her the remainder of the brothy soup. Doing so, she bared her neck and Peridot saw an eyeful of the deep puncture wounds on Lapis’s neck, flecks of dried blood flaking off as she moved her head.

“What happened?” Peridot asked. She found herself turning to Jasper and immediately regretted it. Jasper’s yellow eyes narrowed, annoyed that she would accuse her of doing such violence to Lapis.

“You have marks too,” Lapis pointed out.

Peridot reached for her own neck. This didn’t surprise her, she was always aware of her mother’s penchant for biting her. But the bite marks on her were delicate and precise. They were made lovingly. They were not savage like the ones Lapis carried. Peridot found it hard to believe Lapis’s implications.

X

Peridot quickly adopted this new routine: early in the morning she ate half of her breakfast and carried the rest to the cellar. She cleaned Lapis’s wounds and brushed the knots out of Jasper’s fur. Peridot had started to doubt she and Jasper had ever spoken, that the shapeshifter was capable of speech. She never spoke to Peridot, and even in her wolf form she didn’t bark. But Peridot knew she could talk. Sometimes, before she opened the cellar door, she would hear Jasper’s raspy voice from the other side.

Peridot felt that Jasper hated, blamed her. She hunted in the afternoons and shot down fat pheasants from the air, then offered the freshly killed birds to Jasper, hoping to curry her favor. Jasper would take the kill, eat them raw, but she would eat in silence.

Lapis still looked sickly and stubborn, even though Peridot fed her every day too. She fed the surly woman rich stews to put meat on her bones, but Lapis was discontented with the charity. She urged Peridot to free her instead and when Peridot visibly ignored her, turning her head away awkwardly, Lapis would retort harshly and call her a coward, the very insult Peridot was attempting to avoid.

“You had no problems setting Jasper loose,” she bitterly retorted.

Neither understood there wasn’t much more Peridot could do. She was already disobeying her mother’s wishes. Often she wondered if Jaune knew. The last night during dinner she mentioned that Peridot had been ravenous lately.

Peridot had stiffened, feeling caught, but Jaune just laughed and shook her head. “Don’t worry. The cold weather does this. Food warms the body.”

After she said this, Peridot was too afraid to slip a biscuit into the sleeve of her shirt.

She was more cautious since starting her new routine of caring for her mother’s captives against her wishes. She sewed Jasper’s collar into the lining of her clothes every morning, easing her anxiety later that night when her mother stripped her.

She thought she was being sneaky enough, but every so often, Jaune would say something that would spike Peridot’s nerves. She seemed to grip her more, and was more possessive when they tumbled in bed. Once, after pointing out again that Peridot seemed to be eating more, she later pinned Peridot to the cold stone walls. She whispered in her ear, “Come for me, girl,” over and over. And Peridot would quiver despite herself and come under the thread of words, repeatedly, with or without physical stimulation.

She came so much it became painful, spoiling her pleasure. She felt like she was being punished.

This was all confirmed when Peridot, having lost track of time, was bounding up the steps from the cellar and her mother was there to greet her, arms neatly folded across her chest.

“You pitied.”

Peridot hung her head into a bow, shrinking into the corner. She started to mutter an apology but soon gave up. It was pointless. Her mother was like a sharpened blade: cold and decisive. Peridot chanced a glance, searching for a glimmer of mercy in Jaune’s eyes. They radiated a searing heat that inspired a miserable, “I’m sorry.”

“You prolonged their suffering. Now you’ll have to atone for it. Dinner will be canceled.” She sighed dejectedly,looking in the direction of the dining room. “All that food, wasted.”

Peridot didn’t believe her at first. Dinner was an intimate ritual between them. They had always discussed matters or hobbies over the dinner table, and when she came of age, flirted between bites of decadent food. When she approached the dinner table, however, she was turned away by one of the servants.

She was denied breakfast, lunch, all meals for several days. To teach her a lesson and to prevent her from pilfering anything and giving it to Lapis and Jasper. She had tried hunting, but her arrows and quiver were gone. Her mother was thorough in her cruelty.

Her stomach cried out for the next two days. Gradually, she learned to cope with it. Without Jasper and Lapis to take care of, and without mealtimes, her free time increased tenfold. She wandered the halls, slightly dizzy and very hungry, but also curious. Curiosity distracted her from the hunger pangs and the hunger itself had dissolved her of her guilt (at least temporarily).

She read books near the hearth and refrained from too much physical activity. More often than not she stopped reading midway, if a character was eating in a scene or if food came up in some form in an academic text. Eventually it became unbearable to read about animals and plants too,. All she could imagine were roasts and steamed vegetables, and then her stomach would whine.

She refrained from stealing any food until she woke in the middle of the night, her stomach a raw, throbbing, twisting knot in her belly. She felt wane and empty, and she didn’t know where she got the energy but she found herself in the kitchen. There, a servant was bent over the counter, rolling out pie dough.

Peridot’s mouth watered. The dough was raw but it appeared delicious anyway. She reached over the servant and picked herself a piece of the flattened dough. The servant turned, dropped the rolling pin, and gripped Peridot’s hand.

“Ow!”

The dough fell to the floor and before Peridot could make a move to retrieve it the servant captured and pitched it.

“I’m tired of this! Fetch me preserves– bread, cheese. Anything, dammit!” Peridot yelled. They had never disobeyed her before, but they were always her mother’s servants first. They obeyed Peridot by proxy. “Now!” she shouted again, her head throbbing, stomach growling.

The servant made no reply, no move to obey her. It simply stared at her listlessly.

Her mother had probably heard her shouting. She didn’t doubt that; dawn was close, but it was dark still. Her mother was without a doubt awake but Peridot didn’t care anymore. She was hungry, she wanted food now. Couldn’t she see that?! Didn’t she care? Maybe, Peridot thought, her mother would come upon her scolding the servant and see her, face pale, body withering, and take pity on her. Then, she would lift the ban, hold Peridot in her arms and hand-feed her grapes and succulent fruits, the juices dripping down her chin. She would coo and feel sorry for putting her through this, and maybe, oh maybe she was hoping for too much but…

Then her mother would let Lapis and Jasper free too. There would be no prisoners in their wine cellar, no guilt to wipe her hands of, and the summer dreams would end too. All of it would end, and everything would be normal. She would ride her horses and hunt. She wouldn’t be fighting one of the cowled servants away from the counter for a measly sliver of raw pie dough.

For being so meek and quiet, the servant was formidable. The more it fought and the more Peridot’s hunger consumed her, the more she pushed and stamped, and pulled…

She pulled on its robes, yanked off its cowl, wringing the two pieces of cloth in her hands and then quickly dropping them.

A skeleton stared back at her, clean and white. Its sockets were empty but she felt the presence of its stare. She watched it bend over to pick up its robe and cowl in stunned silence. It was eerily beautiful. The bones were polished and it had strong teeth. Before it draped the cowl over its head, Peridot caught sight of rust red marks drawn on its skull like a red headband.

Peridot subconsciously reached for Jasper’s collar sewn into the lining of her clothes, reminded of the marks drawn across it. Binding. Loyalty. Subjugation was seared into the collar.

It had only been a quick moment but she read the marks on the skull quickly, or she had already known them somehow to be there and it all came together. She wasn’t sure anymore. Her head was spinning. There was acid rising up her throat but nothing in her stomach to purge.

Peridot tore out of the kitchen, finding the energy to run. She passed several cowled servants, she wondered perversely, if she drew off their cowls like tablecloths if she would find bare bones again and again. She did not stop and try to snatch the cloth to find out. She already knew– somehow– that she was right.

Her steps only slowed once she realized she was heading straight for her mother’s room. She took a step back, eyes on the closed, ornate doors. Of course, her instincts took her to the place she had always found comfort before. Perhaps as a child, her mother’s room, her bed, her arms were promise of sanctuary but now she doubted that. She had not outgrown her mother. She had outgrown her mother’s lies.

Her heart caught, beating in her throat, Peridot backed away and whirled around, retracing her footsteps back to her room. She locked the door behind her, but it did nothing to sate her nerves. She curled up, not even making it to the bed, her knees on cold stone. Her hunger was forgotten and somewhere in the space of her panic, she had drifted to sleep. Dawn came, the light in narrow slivers across her back. She craned her head up, meeting the light, and felt safe for now.

The burden of the encroaching dark, knowing night would come again, made the muscles in her chest tense, digesting all that she saw with an empty stomach. She wanted to believe that it was a dream or a delusion created by her body deprived of food, that the skeleton was a metaphor, not a physical reality she had to accept.

This was difficult. She had seen animate skeletons before when she had traveled with Lapis and Jasper briefly– and even before then. She could feel it. This had happened before. She had seen the marks adorning a skull’s head like a ruby red crown before.

Her mind shifted gears between fear and dissertation. She paced her room, then moved to the room adjoining hers where her clothes were kept. There were mirrors there too, bright and polished, broadening the small room. Peridot stood in front of one of these mirrors and shucked her clothes off. She examined her body thoroughly for any marks similar to the ones on the skeletons: binding, loyalty, soul, movement, and silence.

She expected with dread to find at least loyalty embedded on her skin, aware of the power her mother’s word had over her. She had never second-guessed it before; she had assumed it was the love and absolute devotion she felt that made her body orgasm on command. Now, she wondered how much more her mother could control her. What other words could she use to bend Peridot’s will?

Peridot sought to find the source of this power before it could be utilized again. She found the razor blade among the toiletries. It was nice and sharp, scarcely used except to trim the curls framing her nethers

She sheared off her already short hair, grimacing with disdain that once again, she had failed to grow it out. It was a messy job. There were patches but it was enough. She could see everything underneath the peach fuzz and was relieved that her scalp did not match the servant’s.

She considered the alternative, looking at the expanse between her legs, and she lathered her pubic hair with soap and shaved herself bare there too. Nothing. And now she was cold. The chill air had sneaked through the cracks, or she was too sensitive now, being bald. She wiped herself clean with a towel and put her clothes back on. The collar sewn between the lining of her clothes was a comfort to her more than ever and she hugged it against herself, welcoming the bite of its presence. If she closed her eyes she could smell Jasper’s distinct wet dog smell, and for a moment she was rejuvenated.

She decided then, her heart and head pounding, stomach whining, what she needed to do. The afternoon was fresh, cold and and crisp like an apple slice. There was time, and then, after that? She wasn’t sure, but she kept her fingers crossed that she would be once the moment was there. She left her room, heading for the wine cellar.

A lit lantern was in her hands, although the halls were heralded by candlelight and the day was still new. She walked briskly past the cowled servants. Some morbid curiosity pulsed through her to yank off their cloaks, just to prove herself wrong. But she knew she was right and she didn’t want to see the proof. Still, some part of her wavered. What if she was wrong?

She reasoned, pulling up the cellar door, that even if she was wrong, freeing Lapis and Jasper was the right thing to do, regardless of her personal situation.

She kept the cellar door propped open, tying one end of rope to the bronze handle and the other end to the ceiling beam above. Then she picked up her lantern again, and her wits, and trekked down the steps.

X

“Why the change of heart?” Jasper asked. She was talking to Peridot again, finally.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Peridot muttered, wiping her brow. This lock was troublesome. She had been trying it for over an hour, making trips up and down the stairs for more tools she could find to use to pick the lock– or better, for the key to the lock.

Jasper’s upper lip curled in a sneer towards the stubborn lock. “Just smash it,” she said, as if the idea were reasonable.

Peridot rolled her eyes.

“You can’t smash everything,” Lapis said before she could, and then, to Peridot: “Took you long enough.”

“You don’t have to rub it in. Maybe I’ll just free Jasper,” Peridot retorted.

Lapis laughed and although it was dry, it was the first real bit of humor Peridot had heard from her in a while. She smiled to herself. Amid her frustration, she was beginning to feel more at ease. Taking an active role was taking the strain off her conscience.

“What will you do when you’ve finished?” Lapis asked.

“She’ll come with us,” Jasper answered.

Lapis made a face, then nodded slightly, agreeing. Peridot averted her eyes, scowling. “Quiet now, you’re distracting me,” Peridot said.

She wasn’t quite sure either. Peridot knew without a doubt her mother would never lay a hand to hurt her, but she had damaged her still, from within. An avid liar she was, and overprotective. Peridot wondered if everything had been a lie. She held a smidgen of hope that she was wrong, and so she hadn’t completely decided whether to go with Lapis and Jasper or stay. But if she were being thoroughly honest, she wanted to stay, even if it wasn’t for the best. The hard part would be to leave for her own good. She wondered if she could be happy without her mother. Except for Lapis and Jasper, she was everything Peridot knew.

A click sounded in the air and Peridot cracked a grin. “Finally–” she started, but then another click came, from above and not the lock in her hands.

Jasper was the first to look up. Peridot and Lapis’s eyes followed the wolf’s keen gaze.

“She’s here.”

Peridot’s pulse quickened, hands shaking around Jasper’s lock. “That’s– I checked the time. It’s too early for her to be awake!”

“Sunlight is only unpleasant to them,” Lapis said quietly.

Peridot dropped the lock and tools, which clattered to the floor. “This is bad– I’m… I’m not supposed to be here!”

“We gathered.”

“I have to go. I have to go right now. I’ll– I’ll come back.” Peridot sprang to her feet and caught the lantern in her hand, half-crawling, half-climbing up the steps in her hurry. “I promise!” she said over her shoulder.

Midway up the steps, the sound of the rope sawed through gritted her ears. The cellar door creaked and fell shut, vibrating the ground under Peridot’s knees and palms. A shuddering sob passed through her body and she nearly dropped the lantern. She did not stop climbing the steps. The finality of the door slamming shut encouraged her. She let go of the lantern. It almost toppled again. She banged at the door.

“Mother?” she asked weakly.

Footsteps, heeled boots that went tic tac tic went away from the door on the other side. They returned a moment sooner than Peridot expected, but instead of the door opening came the sound of something heavy like furniture being pushed across the wooden floor. Peridot felt the weight of the object on the other side against her palm.

She tried the door again. Not only was it locked, but now it was too heavy to lift.

Peridot chuckled, giddy and faint. She had always been Jaune’s prisoner. Now there was no illusion otherwise. She was trapped here amongst her other captives, in this dank dark hole that smelled like clay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in the middle of writing chapter 5. I am not sure when I’ll post it but I’ll keep you all updated.


	5. Chapter 5

Peridot was only vaguely aware of Jasper’s and Lapis’s presence, her whole attention fixated on the door locked above her, weighted down on the other side. 

The cold penetrated her bones but not her senses, and her stomach growled, drowned out by her ceaseless sobbing. She did not feel cold, the mud in her clenched hands, or the sharp hunger pains. She nearly felt nothing, her chest too light, like she had been hollowed out and so cold she was numb. But she cried too much and with much passion to claim she felt nothing at all.

At first she thought, her sobs beginning to wind down to a trickle, that she just felt sorry. That her tears were penance and surely soon the punishment would be over. The thing blockading the door would be pushed aside and the door opened, bathed in the light of day, with her mother’s embrace thawing her bones. But the minutes, the hours wore on eternally and Peridot realized that she didn’t feel sorry, only abandoned.

At some moment in time, night or day (they couldn’t know) she lifted her head from the ground and moved from her precarious perch on the steps. She wiped her face with the heel of her hand, although her face had been dry for some time now. She streaked her face with mud but she didn’t care. 

“I’m like you now,” she said, voice cracking. She wasn’t even sure she was speaking. Her voice was so low and her throat was raw and hurt. 

“You’ve always been like us.” Jasper grunted. “You’re just now realizing it?”

“It’s. . . difficult to ignore now,” Peridot said. She picked up the lantern, the glow soft and waning. It would extinguish in under an hour. 

“I could try your lock again,” she offered, inching closer to Jasper. “Not that it would do much now.”

Jasper’s ears pricked up at that. “It’s not a bad plan.” The red wolf turned to Lapis. “But I think you should undo Lapis’s locks first.”

Peridot’s eyes widened, sputtering. “You’re kidding?”

Lapis turned away. Before she did, Peridot thought she saw a flicker of surprise. Jasper nodded and whispered, so it was only between them, “She needs it more than me.”

Peridot crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow skeptically at that statement. “What makes you say that? You were her prisoner just weeks ago, Jasper,” she replied, too loud for Jasper’s liking.

“Just do it,” Jasper retorted. Taking her wolf form, she signaled the end to this argument. She looked away and laid down, chin resting on her paws. 

Peridot sighed and picked up her tools and the lantern. “If that’s what you want,” she grumbled and crept closer to Lapis. Lapis did not look up as she worked the locks, or say a word. She stared vacantly at the row of wine bottles. Her eyes move as if she were reading the labels. Peridot could feel Lapis pretending to ignore her presence, which did not encourage her to unlock the chains.

Despite her efforts, the locks wouldn’t budge. Her hands were too cold and her mind was elsewhere. Lapis sighed heavily and leaned against the wall. The light from the lantern had dwindled, so that Lapis couldn’t read the labels of the wine bottles or see much else of the room. The light had dimmed so that only the locks Peridot was working on were illuminated. The light was fading fast and Peridot’s patience followed.

“You can stop,” Lapis said.

Peridot didn’t, although she felt she was going nowhere. She felt she had to at least try until the light gave up on her.

“It’s okay,” Lapis said again, clutching her arm, glumly watching Peridot work in earnest. “I’m used to it.”

“What?” Peridot looked up finally. The light flickered, then went out. 

“I thought Jasper told you. That wasn’t what you were whispering about?”

“I... no. I’m not sure. What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” And then, “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“What?”

“Secrets.” Lapis’s chains rattled. Her bones creaked. Peridot heard the other woman’s joints crackle and pop like hot grease in a frying pan. 

Peridot waited for Lapis to say something else, holding her breath. In the short time Peridot had known Lapis, she learned how secretive and complicated she was. She seemed perpetually hurt, conflicted. She wondered if she had ever seen Lapis smile. 

“We’re going to die here,” Lapis said plainly, her voice echoing. Peridot could feel steely eyes on her, although it was too dark for either of them to see. The smell of fire and oil remained from the lantern, smelling strange in this damp place.

Before Peridot could speak, Lapis explained, “I know what you’re thinking. You think she’ll come back for you. Maybe you can talk her into freeing us.”

“No-- um, well maybe a little,” Peridot admitted.

“That won’t happen. We’re going to die here and it’s your fault.”

Peridot flinched. The words were no greater than her mother’s scorn, locking her under with them, but they still hurt. She did not know it was possible to feel smaller than she already was. She imagined she was small enough to crush.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Peridot said, her voice cracking again.

“Lapis,” Jasper warned.

“It must have been nice, being a little pet.”

“Lapis,” Jasper growled again.

“No, tell me more, Lapis,” Peridot challenged irritably. “You said there’s no point keeping secrets. You know mine. So I want to know yours. What is it exactly that makes you better than me?”

“You’re a simpering coward.”

“I didn’t ask what you think of me. I asked about you, Lapis.”

Peridot heard her breathe, another word beginning to edge out of her throat that was quickly extinguished. And they all sat in silence a little longer, as the darkness and cold wore on them. Peridot had by that time taken space next to Jasper to exchange body heat with her. Very often thoughts of her mother and their situation would creep up. It was inevitable, the misery hard to ignore. When she thought too long about it, Peridot would grab a tuft of Jasper’s fur until her shaking and the sobbing stopped. 

She slept for a short time and woke, oddly rejuvenated despite the hunger and sadness eating her up. She tried sleeping more but her body insisted she should be awake. So be it, she thought, and searched the darkness for the staircase. She crawled up it on all fours and tried the door above.

Lapis stirred. Peridot was surprised she didn’t gloat that she was right, that her mother would never come, not until their bodies expired. However, she could sense those words in the air, and so she said, replying to a supposed sentence, “She’ll be hungry eventually.”

“Maybe you’ve been replaced,” Lapis said, lodging in another nugget of doubt. Peridot knit her brows. Oh she was foul! Peridot tried the door again to no avail and stayed at the staircase, pensive, trying not to let what Lapis just said get to her. 

“If she did come back for you, that would be surprising. I wouldn’t blame you if you went back to her.”

“Your attitude would make the decision painless and easy.” 

Lapis exhaled, it almost sounded like laughter. “That too, is understandable.” The chains stirred as Lapis moved, trying to make herself comfortable. The chains did not allow her the luxury of standing up completely. She had to slouch as a result. Peridot had heard her complain about her back a few times. “If I had been treated as you were, like a pet, like family, I probably wouldn’t have escaped.”

Peridot dryly laughed. Like family. If that were true she wouldn’t be locked away like a felon. Still, Lapis was opening up to her, less sour for a change. She kept her retorts buckled tight.

The possibility that Lapis had mentioned, that Jaune would replace Peridot, seemed likely, if flawed. It wouldn’t last if her mother tried, Peridot knew. Like the skeletons under cowls, she somehow knew, down to the marrow in her bones. “We depend on each other. She’s lonely. That’s why I know she’ll come back for me, not just because I wish it.” 

“What will you do then?” Lapis said. Jasper bristled, now awake and listening.

Peridot shrugged and she tried the door again. “Fall into her arms, fall back into old habits.”   
She laid down, curled up on the staircase, picking at the stitches in the lining of her clothes. The collar bit coldly against her chest, but now she couldn’t feel it anymore.

“You don’t have to.” Jasper woofed.

Peridot didn’t know what to say. She turned over on the stairwell restlessly and faced the door. It was so dark she wasn’t sure when she closed her eyes and tried for sleep again.

X

A rustling from the other side of the door woke her. She sat up, her hand raised above her head, ready to try the door again. It opened before her palm connected with the the door and a hand caught hers, familiar and welcome, despite what had happened. 

The light was blinding as she was scooped up out of the cellar. Jasper barked. Peridot looked back but not for long. Jaune cupped her cheek forcing her to face her.

Peridot squinted, adjusting to the light. It was too bright and her head ached. Jaune placed a sliver of dried fruit between her lips and Peridot graciously took it, even wetting her mother’s fingers with her tongue. Another piece followed. Peridot was so ravenous she didn’t take a moment to taste each piece, not even to recognize its sweetness. 

She was moved from the back kitchen to the chaise longue chair in front of the fireplace. Jaune continued to feed her and she was content, slowly coming to her senses, the sharp pangs in her gut melting away, the fog clearing from her head, her body and anguish thawing. Her mother kissed her in-between bites of food and Peridot was happy to receive both. 

Her stomach half-full, Peridot began to register taste: dried apricots, and now her mother was feeding her slivers of tender meat. Pork and marmalade and for contrast, duck meat, coarse and salty. Peridot did not waste a bite. She licked her lips and Jaune’s fingers. She was grateful and too forgiving.

Eventually, as she always did, her mother’s hands searched for her body underneath the layers. Peridot, missing her mother’s embrace and body heat, searched too. Stomach sated, she was starving for affection and took it despite all doubts bottled inside of her. Jaune’s fingers, slick with Peridot’s saliva, slipped effortlessly inside her. Peridot cupped her mother’s ample breasts, nuzzled her neck. She took in her scent and breathed sharply but she couldn’t come. 

“Come for me, Peri,” Jaune rasped. Peridot caught a nipple between her teeth. The older woman was sensitive there. “Come for me,” she said again, and Peridot felt electricity streak through her body, her toes curled, tumbling towards the edge, but she could not come.

“I can’t,” she whispered, beginning to cry.

“Yes you can.” Jaune ran a hand over Peridot’s head, hair soft and short like peach fuzz. She wasn’t perturbed that Peridot had shorn her hair after trying to grow it out. She leant to kiss the birthmark on her forehead. “Come for me, Peri.” Her fingers moved, urging her.

“I can’t,” Peridot whispered hoarsely against her breast. “You hurt me.”

Jaune paused, for once expressing surprise. Peridot looked up, her face wet and red. Jaune's entire body shook with displeasure. 

“I said: Come for me.”

Peridot moved back, surprised now too. A bad taste was beginning to form in the back of her mouth, the sweetness of the fruits and meats all forgotten. The looming doubt and bitterness was growing potent, like a mouthful of cloves. 

“No.”

She watched her mother’s face, how the astonishment dawned over her again, and even quicker, transform into bitter disappointment. Her face, so beautiful and mature, turned shrewd and beastly. She looked beautiful still, but the hardness in her tone and her past actions had caused Peridot to pull back in revulsion. 

“I’m sorry,” Peridot said. 

“I hurt you? You hurt my trust, Peri.”

“...I can’t help but not trust you,” Peridot admitted sourly. “You...“ Her voice quaked, crying. “How could you leave me?”

The severity of her mother’s expression softened. She pulled her fingers out of Peridot and drew her into an embrace. “Hush now. I never left you, dear.”

Peridot blubbered an unintelligible response and her mother gently rocked her. “I kept watch over you the whole time. It was only a day. Just a day. And see, I didn’t leave you there to rot.” She kissed Peridot’s temple, massaged her cheek with her thumb. “But now you’ll know not to go behind my back so this won’t happen again.”

Peridot shook her head, face pressed against her partially open mother’s shirt. Guilt tugged at her heart and she didn’t know why it felt wrong to be punished and blamed. Somehow she regretted doing what she did. The admonishment and the hurt within her mother’s voice made her doubt. Was she at fault? Truly, Peridot didn’t think so, but her mother made her feel so, holding and touching her with a tenderness that made them both ache.

“Shhh,” she whispered again. She clung to Peridot like a wet blouse. She kissed the salt from the corners of Peridot’s eyes. She rocked her back and forth. “Shhhh.”

The sound drew Peridot back to that frozen valley, Jasper laying on her legs, holding her down. And then, even further, before Jasper, before she woke, she had been riding side by side with her mother. Jaune told her to dismount her horse; she had dropped something. Peridot went to fetch it for her, and then--

Before that, she was fifteen and the ground wasn’t cold, crunching under her boots. The morning meadow was dewed, the summer day yet to turn humid. She was wearing a light blouse blemished with red and purple berry stains. The basket full of berries was overturned and she chased after her mother’s shadow, receding into the tangled forest. She had never caught up with her, hair and clothes caught in brambles and vines. A traveler found her there, scratched up, face raw and sodden. He helped her home...

And before then, she was seven. She never left her mother’s side. She never let go of her mother’s hand. Jaune had to wrench Peridot’s grip away. And she had cried then more than any time before. Her mother had shushed her then too, her voice playing kind but face as hard and distant as a statue. 

Peridot had chased after her until her legs gave and she was found. She didn’t know the way home then, but the person who found her had a knack for tracking animals. They had followed the horseshoe prints left in the mud and the dog did the rest. 

Peridot lifted her head from Jaune’s bosom. How many times had she, like the Ferryman, led others to her mother’s door, into death? 

She had given her entirety to her mother, willpower lost with just her hand clasped around hers, knees weak from a kiss at the corner of her mouth. Peridot would have done anything just to stay with her a little longer, and a part of her still did. A voice in the back of her mind whispered for her to forget, to let Lapis and Jasper rot underneath their feet, but that voice was drowned out by a louder one, incoherent as it was. It was her own voice, still blubbering and crying, and now, shouting.

“Calm down.” Jaune knit her brows.

Peridot shook her head. She attempted to speak but knots tied up her throat. The collar bit into her side, where her clothes were still barely hanging on. Instinctively, she reached for it, eyes locked on her mother. She watched the realization dawn on her mother’s face, watching her hand reach within the lining of her clothes, the stitching loose from her toiling in the cellar. Her mother opened her mouth to speak and panic rose in Peridot’s body. She couldn’t speak, but she could shout, so loud that she couldn’t hear her mother’s words. 

It was a race to bind before being bound. Her mother raised her voice to combat her, took her by the shoulders. Peridot butted her head upwards, knocking Jaune’s chin upside. She heard her teeth clink. She didn’t feel the impact of the blow, blood dancing. Moving blindly, quickly she took her mother by the throat and pinned her down. Her mother caught her by the wrists. Peridot bit her hands. She ground her teeth into the flesh until copper hit her tongue and Jaune let go from shock.

Peridot’s body moved on her own, frantic not for survival, for clarity. The moment her mother let go, Peridot wrapped the collar around her neck. Her mother’s body, larger, and stronger than her bucked underneath her. Like Peridot she was shouting incoherently. They had both dissolved to their most basic natures. They were beasts. They bit and scratched. Peridot screamed. Her hand caught in Jaune’s mouth like a bear trap. Blood trickled violently out, not the gentle pinpricks Peridot was used to. She tugged back for her hand, with the other she gripped the collar and jerked it upwards. It glowed bright. It dug into her skin like a hot wire but she held on until all of the color faded from the leather save for the two bright symbols: one for loyalty, the other binding. It was the brightest and faded last.

Her mother’s body relented reluctantly underneath her and Peridot rolled over, panting. Time had moved so fast moments ago, now it stilled as she caught her breath, her surroundings coming back into focus and along with it, the pain the adrenaline had dulled. She gripped her hand, wet with blood. Some of the blood had begun to coagulate. The pain was fresh nonetheless and tears sprang from the corners of Peridot’s eyes. 

Her mother watched her from the corner of her eye. She was lying flat on her back, pensive and withdrawn. She looked unsure, an expression Peridot didn’t know she was capable of.

Finally, she said, “The key is in my bureau.”

Peridot was surprised by the break of silence. She wiped the corner of her eyes with her sleeve, blinking, then her eyes fell on the collar wrapped like a noose around her mother’s neck and remembered. “What key?” she asked, disbelieving.

“The key for the prisoners,” Her mother replied. Her mouth was smeared with blood. Peridot dabbed at her mother’s mouth with what remained of her shirt, then ripped a piece off to tie around her hand.

“You wouldn’t be lying to me?” Peridot tested.

Jaune shook her head. The collar did not glow or bite into her neck. Peridot stood up, catching herself on the wall and pausing to regain her bearings. Her balance remained rocky, as if she were crossing a boat tossed back and forth by the sea. She walked slowly, hand to the wall to keep herself composed, to her mother’s bedroom. As promised, a key was inside the bureau. On her way to the cellar, she crossed paths with her mother.

Peridot nearly jumped, seeing her mother standing before her, hands neatly folded in her lap. She had tried to clean her mouth but there were still traces of blood, and the top of her gown was reassembled, if frayed from their tussle. There were scratch marks on her arms and Peridot suspected she looked no better. Despite all these things, her mother had recollected herself in nearly full form. She looked elegant, but beaten. There was a frown line on her forehead and the corner of her mouth was stiff. 

Peridot sucked in a breath and began to walk past her, the key jingling on its ring. She felt her mother’s eyes watch her back. Her eyes had lost their glimmer, now a tawny, weathered bronze shade. She had exuded pride a second ago, but watching Peridot leave, that had gone away, replaced with remorse. “Are you leaving me as well, Peri?”

Peridot stopped. She had tried not to but she stopped, faltering. She swallowed the knots in her throat and balled her bloodied hand into a fist. 

“I think that’s for the best, mother,” she said, walking away. 

She turned back, right before the darkness of the cellar swallowed her up.

And like a shadow, or a fleeting memory, her mother was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for keeping up with this fic through the month of October. Everyone's enthusiasm was encouraging. I'm glad we could enjoy this story together.
> 
> Thank you to those who drew fanart:
> 
> Imogine:  
> http://theworstwitch.tumblr.com/post/131991421001
> 
> Kurofeng:   
> http://kurofeng.tumblr.com/post/131334950457/some-sketchy-pics-to-practice-the-homeworld-gems
> 
> coy lime pie:  
> http://tat-buns.tumblr.com/post/131930217215/l-or-d-hel-p-me
> 
> Happy Halloween everyone!


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